Captains' Pride
by Jennifier D
Summary: [TezuAto] "Admiring my handiwork?"


**Author's notes: **  
Tezuka and Atobe-muses have been poking me to write this. Amazingly, the title came to be before the fic did. And I was in constant pain while writing this because it's giving me endless problems. (Talk about zero plot and lots of smut. Heh.) Pinning down Atobe's character was a little difficult, because I was given limited info and exposure on him. I might be right on some instances, I might be wrong... so please bear with it ^^; This is a highly experimental fic. Please take everything that is written inside with huge dosages of salt. Expect lots of cryptic-ness and well, vague narrative. This style is more of the style I frequently work in (for my Jrock fanfics) and I'm trying it out for Tenipuri. If this one works out well, I think the next pairing (Guess?) will probably be written with the same style, since it is more angsty than this one.

**Disclaimer and Warning: **  
All copyrights of Tenisu no Oujisama belong to Konomi Takeshi-sensei. No money is being made out of this, unless any of you plan to pay me, that is :) Takes place after the Hyotei Arc. Skipped a lot of details. Just assume that Tezuka is back in time for the last few games of the nationals and Atobe had been sitting around looking pretty meanwhile *snerk*

Date Started: 160703

-----

  
A soft swing, then a hard one, and another hard one. Glasses reflecting the midday sunlight shielded the player's eyes from his observer for the briefest of moments, before clearing up to show sharp, brown eyes that were used to overseeing everything without the slightest inflection of emotions in them. He was used to that. In fact, how could he ever not get used to the other's stoic nature and unsmiling face?

He hadn't intended to discover the other in this manner. In fact, he didn't even know that the brown-haired boy was already back in the country. His coach did inform him a while back that the other was away in Germany for treatment and he probably wouldn't be back until sometime close to their summer break. Not that he was particularly interested in when the other would return. It wasn't his business, except that maybe...

Well, it might have something to do with himself, but that didn't necessarily made it his business.

He was originally out for a brief jog around the city, but was drawn by the sound of tennis, and followed it to its source. When he actually discovered the other at an unused tennis court-- he could safely say that the other wasn't someone he was expecting to see. Either way, he was surprised, briefly, before he decided to watch him play and determine the amount of recovery he had done.

Using his uncanny insight, he was surprised to declare (to himself, that was) that the other's shoulder was fully recovered.

Tezuka Kunimitsu.

As if hearing him, Tezuka stopped and lowered his racket, turning to stare at the person intruding upon his private practice.

He smiled in return. "Tezuka... It's been a long time."

A curt nod from Tezuka. As if he was waiting for him to either finish what he wanted to say, or get lost.

"I see that you have recovered totally."

Another nod.

The smile on his own face seemed to tighten. He watched Tezuka quietly, then turned around.

"We'll meet again."

"Nn."

Just as he was about to leave, Tezuka called out. "Atobe."

He paused, waiting; his player instincts were struggling with something else.

"Let's have a one-set match. I brought extra rackets."

The near smirk-like smile was rapidly back on his face, soothing away the frowns and tight lines around his mouth.

And that was only the beginning of many things to come.

  
**Captains' Pride**  
by  
Jennifier D.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


-----

_If I close my eyes and reach out  
I know I can feel you, right before me  
Because you have always been there  
An unchanging part of my life  
'So even when it's all over, do not forget...'_

-----

  
Soft pants which filled the silence between them, slowly bringing them closer to each other. The almost gentle glide of body against body was a maddening sensation, and so was the feeling of hands and fingers that were long used to his body running over every single inch of his skin. It was almost like a... worship of sorts. Of his body. His perfect body. He had a beautiful body. He knew it. The other knew it too. And the other had confessed to liking his perfect body... a lot more than he should.

Not that he minded that fact in the last bit.

"Nn..."

And the last wave of emotion coursing through his body faded into simple contentment after its crest.

He laid on his bed, eyes closed, the back of his left forearm thrown over his eyes as he panted, trying to calm his breathing. The other was a warm weight on his right; the soft panting from the other echoed his own harsh breathing. He reached up to drag fingers through damp locks of dark brown hair, his fingertips sliding lightly along the other's scalp. Turning his head, he caught his boyfriend's earlobe between his lips, sliding his tongue over the edges lightly.

There was a deep inhale from the other.

His boyfriend pulled away only to hover over him, staring down at him slightly fuzzily without the aid of his glasses. He reached a hand up to pull the other down for a kiss. As soft lips closed over his own, he parted his and let the other's tongue invade him, the kiss familiar and soothing.

There were days where he never wanted to let the other go. This was one of those days.

The brown-haired one finally broke the kiss, then tucked his face against the conjunction between his boyfriend's neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply.

He gazed up at the ceiling, his hand reaching up to tangle fingers in the other's hair again. Such unruly locks. He loved them, like how he loved every single part of the person lying on top of him at the moment, gently mouthing the area between his shoulder and neck. A part of himself was afraid to admit to love. How could love be useful for them? Both of them were males... this was a fruitless union. He knew that right from the start.

He also knew that he could only hold on to the other for as long as the other was willing to let him.

Which was why... this was one of those days where he was acutely afraid of letting the other go. But all these fears came from a hidden side of him, a part of him which he refused to show everyone and anyone. Because at his school, it was a dog eat dog world. To show the slightest sign of weakness... it would allow the others to exploit them to their own advantage. He couldn't possibly let that happen.

He must be strong. Stronger than anyone. That was the only way for anyone who wanted to stay in the competition to survive.

"Is it enough?"

He closed his eyes, letting those words run through him. "...not yet."

And that was when those pair of lips began to wander again, the familiar tongue tracing out and mapping the once foreign territory that was now claimed. He closed his eyes and almost shivered at the other's onslaught, those careful and practiced hands taking him over and playing him so skilfully. The electric contact... even the pain had been worth it.

Warmer, deeper, further... as the both of them twisted on the sheets like two demi-gods caught in an act of passion, he could feel himself giving way, again and again. Completion without the other would be nothing compared to what the both of them could achieve together. He was sure that the other had been aware of that too. The electric comfort within the arms of your opponent...

He opened his mouth in a soundless cry, before reaching up to curl around the other tight.

"Tezuka..."

And then there was nothing but soothing silence amidst the sounds of two hearts beating in union, two pair of lungs inhaling and exhaling in pace...

The world around him began to drift.

  
-----

  
He couldn't remember how their (almost non-existent) relationship had progressed so rapidly that they were meeting each other regularly by the time their first year in senior high started. There was something slowly drawing them towards each other. Atobe was a strong believer of the practice of pursuing the things one wanted. But that didn't mean he had a habit of doing that.

In fact, he had no such habit. His theory was: If someone liked him enough, that person had better be prepared to do a lot of running in return for his affections. Though Tezuka wasn't exactly doing that, there were subtle hints, subtle motivations, all of them twisted up into a thin, silver thread that slowly dragged Atobe nearer and nearer to him. It was almost like... fishing.

Not that Atobe agreed with the imagery or comparison at all. He certainly wasn't a fish left around for others to hook as and when they felt like it.

Oshitari was the only one from his team who actually noticed that anything was happening at all. The other was extremely sharp. He had to credit that to him. But not sharp enough. Never sharp enough. Nobody could be as good as he was.

He was sure that he had never mentioned it before, but he liked quiet mornings as much as he liked hordes of people cheering for him in the background. And it was a quiet morning today. He had been sitting on the bench since eight in the morning, arms and legs crossed, patiently waiting for someone to appear.

He liked being early too. This was a habit he acquired from years of tennis playing. Showing up early not only helped him to be aware of any changes in his schedule, it also gave him a chance to make a preliminary assessment on his opponents before they met on the courts. He wasn't so crass as to go around collecting information on them. But he liked intimidating his opponents, and usually, showing up early to leer at them in their faces was a good practice as any.

Not that many people liked to face the two hundred men strong Hyotei team's captain up front, after all.

"Ohayou."

Atobe glanced up and smiled. "Ohayou, Tezuka."

A quick hug and both players were ready to meet the challenges of the day. It was almost a ritual for them to play one game before school. And on any other day, actually, before moving on to do other things they had to complete within the day. There was no (valid) reason for them to hang around each other all day, after all.

Early morning meetings were nice, so were the hugs, but after that everything was business.

"Buchou." A sort of familiar voice which grated at the edge of his consciousness sounded. "Sorry I'm late."

The flamboyant former captain of the Hyotei team paused, then turned to stare at the person who interrupted their morning practice.

"Ah, Echizen. It's alright. I think you should know who this is." Tezuka referred to Atobe, and Ryoma nodded. The former buchou of Seigaku paused and turned to the other captain. "Atobe... I need your help."

"Hm?" The look on Atobe's face was nonplussed, like Ryoma's.

"I need you to assist me in training Echizen."

The look Atobe gave Tezuka was strange. "Why?"

Tezuka seemed unfazed by the other's dark mood. "Because I want him to become the pillar for Seigaku. I have decided to train him meanwhile to make him stronger."

Atobe failed to see what that had got to do with him. But since Tezuka asked so nicely (later in the evening again), he decided to agree to it. Not that he liked the brat from Seigaku. He simply found it annoying that the other would now be a constant presence at one of their more private arrangements. Although Ryoma had declared that they shouldn't let his presence stop them from doing anything...

It wasn't as if they were doing anything to begin with. Tezuka certainly didn't look like he was going to do anything (before his kouhai) soon, at any rate.

Atobe certainly had a lot to be annoyed about these days.

  
-----

  
Like all the other times, he would stand before his mirrors the next morning, his eyes observing every single part of himself critically. The other had a tendency to leave bite marks and faint bruises at where others wouldn't be able to see unless he took off his clothes. That was a good thing.

He turned, leaving his back facing the door as he tried to look down the back of his legs, noting bruises on his hips and then, on the back of his hips. Admittedly, they were a little rough yesterday night. It might be a good thing that he was tanned enough that it would be difficult to tell if there were actually any faint bruises present. The bite marks were unavoidable.

"Admiring my handiwork?"

He paused, then looked up. "Maybe."

The other had acquired a smart mouth while he was gone. It might, or might not be a good thing.

Before he could say anything, familiar hands had wrapped themselves around him from behind, and he relaxed into the comforting embrace. He closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable roaming from those pair of hands which he liked so much.

A butterfly-light brush over his right hip bone, and the hand which had held countless rackets brushed gentle fingers over the flat plane of his stomach, before reaching up to rub lightly over a nipple. Then down again it would go, reaching for the other hip, past the junction between his hip and thigh, slipping down the inside of his left thigh with practiced ease.

He sighed and leaned against the other behind him.

He liked it when they play rough, but he liked it when they took it slow and hard too.

The both of them were still standing at the section of his bathroom where there were two full body wall mirrors surrounding them on their sides. He glanced at their reflections out of the corner of his eyes, panting, as the other reached down between his legs and slowly leaned the both of them forwards.

A soft gasp before a strange stillness took over, as he waited for himself to be ready.

No matter how many times it happened, how many times the both of them found themselves doing this, it had still hurt. And a part of his mind was impatiently reminding himself that his position in this situation was wrong. He wasn't made to receive. In fact, neither was the other, but he was so used to receiving from the other that he could no longer remember if he had protested to this arrangement in the beginning.

The once-soothing rhythm was beginning to build to a fevered pitch, and he could feel himself reaching behind, digging into the other's slick skin and flesh. He might slip. He was no longer supporting his own but both of theirs, and if he couldn't get a hold on the other soon, he was going to fall.

Reassuring weight reasserted itself around his midriff, and he glanced again, at the mirror beside him, shivering slightly from the sight that greeted himself.

They had done this a million times, and still, each time he saw himself in the mirror, he couldn't help feeling the jolt of surprise and fear which raked through his body. He was afraid, and at the same time, he was proud of himself. How could he not be? The other wasn't someone who could be easily acquired.

Untouchable.

"Ah..."

If only this could last forever.

  
-----

  
They took turns to play against Ryoma even after he finished his third year at Seigaku Junior High. Tezuka chose to continue training the younger boy when he was promoted to the affiliated high school. Although Atobe wasn't exactly cheery about the arrangement, he didn't object to it either. As long as the younger boy proved to be no threat to his relationship with Tezuka, and to his plans of becoming a professional... he could be ignored. Atobe was sitting by the benches watching a one-set match between Ryoma and Tezuka when someone appeared by his side, smiling. He turned and regarded the other with faint curiosity.

"Konnichi ha, Atobe-san..."

He nodded. "Konnichi ha."

Fuji Syuusuke, the prodigy of the former Seigaku team. Unpredictable and unfathomable. He was a deep one. Atobe recognised the talent in the other player right from the start, but he had his concentration elsewhere back then. He was too busy watching Tezuka to pay attention to anyone else.

"Tezuka invited you?" Atobe spoke to the other without turning to look at him.

"Ahh, actually..."

"Fuji." The both of them looked up. Tezuka had just called for a break and Ryoma was walking towards where the both of them were seated. "I thought I told you not to come."

"Maa, Ryoma..." The fair-haired boy's smile was annoying, to a certain degree.

Annoyed, boy wonder turned back to his racket bag and retrieved his water bottle, ignoring the tensai standing beside Atobe.

"He's the reason why I'm here."

Atobe stared at Fuji, eyes widening slightly. "He's your...?"

"Ahh, yes..."

There was silence between the two spectators after Tezuka and Ryoma continued their match again. For as long as he could remember, Atobe thought of Ryoma as a constant interference in his life. Or more like, a constant, unmovable, unbootable presence in his life where it involved Tezuka. Now that the other's boyfriend had turned up...

"Saa," Fuji sighed with a smile. "I hope he's not too angry at me."

"Why should he be angry at you?" Atobe glanced over.

"Well, he told me rather specifically not to follow him. But I had to see what he's doing, after all."

Another glance. "You don't trust him? Or you don't trust Tezuka?"

"It's not that," Fuji seemed rather cheery despite the topic of their conversation. "I want to know if he's interrupting the two of you."

Silence slowly seeped into the space between both boys again.

He didn't know what to say. How did the other know? Well, it was true that the sight of Atobe and Tezuka together had been a rather unlikely sight, but just because the two of them were playing tennis together, it didn't mean that they were doing anything else, did it? The two of them hadn't been exactly obvious about their relationship either.

Fuji suddenly spoke up. "Ah, may I call you Atobe?"

He nodded.

"How is Tezuka lately?"

"He's fine."

There was a pause. "How's his shoulder?"

Atobe glanced over once again. "What are you talking about?"

"You do know about the condition of his shoulder, don't you?"

He frowned. "I do. His shoulder is perfectly fine."

There was a hesitant pause from Fuji. "The other reason why I don't want Ryoma playing against Tezuka so frequently is because of his shoulder."

Atobe watched Tezuka playing for a brief moment before turning to regard Fuji fully. "I see nothing wrong with his shoulder."

In the silence that persisted, Fuji opened his eyes and regarded Atobe calmly. "He damaged part of his shoulder permanently during that match against you. There'll be repercussions if he places too much stress on it."

Another pause. "I know that."

"Ahh," and the serious look rapidly disappeared, replaced by Fuji's trademark smile. "Of course you would know that. You're his boyfriend after all."

Atobe was eerily silent for the rest of the day.

  
-----

  
There was no sex that night.

Already three years into their strange relationship, and he never realised what was wrong. Maybe, that was why the other rejected becoming a professional time and again. He spoke to him about this before. In fact, he had plans. Many plans. He thought that maybe, after they had graduated from high school, the both of them could take the tennis world in a storm and emerge champions.

Everyone reckoned that they were good enough for that. Even his coach had said so.

Yet, whenever he mentioned the topic, the other would only reply with a simple 'No.' It frustrated him to a great extent, and yet he couldn't seem to get the other to give him a straight answer. Just a simple 'No.' He thought that the other would change his mind with time. Maybe he would become calmer and somehow...

He must have been deluding himself.

If he had never found out the truth... would the both of them continue this pretence? Why was Tezuka with him in the first place? Why did he even bother? If he had known that Atobe was going to ruin his arm back then, if he knew now that his arm was permanently ruined and there was no way for him to become a professional player...

Even if Tezuka could forgive him, he couldn't forgive himself.

"Are you alright?"

He gazed up at the other from where he was sitting on the floor, rolling a tennis ball from right to left and back between two hands. "Ah."

"Did Fuji say something to you today?"

"No."

"He must have asked you some questions then."

"Hmmn."

"Atobe."

He stilled the tennis ball, then glanced up. "Yes?"

"I don't want to become a professional player. We've talked about this before. I've never had plans to become one."

A quick kiss, on his lips. Feathery-light and soft. Uncertain. Fallible. Volatile. Transient.

"I know."

He thought he wanted to hold on to the other for forever.

"I'm going back."

"Nn."

The sound of a door closing behind himself. He didn't bother to send him off. The other had been to his house enough times that he could make his way to the door with no mishap. There were no objections from his parents. None. Not even his proud father, who thought that his equally proud son should have chosen a daughter of the powerful and the rich.

Because the other was simply special in this manner.

That strange parting was just the beginning. Slowly, all that was precious and beautiful between them would slowly die away and be replaced. Forgotten. Ignored. He wanted to patch those holes, but how could he patch them when he was the one who put them there... and he was the one who made sure that they were large enough that no amount of love could fill them?

Slowly, the cracks between them widened into a chasm.

He was losing the other. Slipping through his fingers like a flimsy dream, breakable and fragile.

He was the one who brought up the issue that maybe, the two of them should stop seeing each other. It would be easier like that after all. He had a lot to be blamed for. Not only did he cause so much damage to the other... he wasn't understanding. He was blind in places where he shouldn't be. He was selfish and proud, he drove the other with the same fire he drove himself. He assumed. He thought that simply because he wanted something, the other would want the same.

He forgot that love wasn't invincible.

And...

...since when did it turn into love?

The other didn't say anything. He never said anything. It made him wonder if he was the only one who had been dreaming right from the beginning. He was the only one assuming that there had to be anything between them at all. But that wasn't like him. He was pretentious, ambitious and presumptuous. He was proud, vain and he knew it. He was proud of those facts. He was strong.

He used to be so strong.

His confidence was like an unbreakable wall. Nothing could put him down. Absolutely nothing.

Even now, he woke up on nights thinking of the other.

It made him wonder if he had made one too many mistakes in his life. Maybe this was payback. Retribution. That was what all the others had always said, after all. They always said that someone like him deserved retribution like anything. He said he would laugh in the face of retribution. He wasn't afraid. He wasn't. Who said he was?

He was just a little lonely, and maybe a little sad.

And maybe, on some days, he thought of the other, thought of those days past.

Then thought about what he would be like now, if the two of them had never parted ways.

Yes, maybe just a little lonely.

That was all.

  
-----

  
There were news travelling around that Tezuka left the country after he graduated from high school. The reason for his departure was unknown, but there were rumours of further treatment. Some others said he went overseas for further education. Even more mentioned something along the lines of going overseas to be trained into a professional player. Whatever the reason had been, Atobe didn't feel the need to know.

To everyone, Atobe was still the same person. Vain, proud, hurtful. A top-class player. All his games were played with the same type of fervour as before, and his record was still full of perfect wins. He was slowly making his way to heights where many others had only dreamt of reaching. Nobody would be able to guess that there was something wrong with the genius player.

Only the sharper ones seemed to notice those empty instances where Atobe stared off into space. Moments where there was nobody for him to talk to, nobody for him to observe, nobody for him to offer snide comments to. Moments where he felt that he didn't have to exhibit the full glory of Atobe Keigo to the whole wide world. And those moments were so very rare.

Atobe was a constantly busy person.

He made sure he was.

"Ne Atobe-senpai, I heard that you're already playing for the professional league now?"

"Ah," the smile on the tennis player's face was gracious while he spoke to a lowerclassman from his university. "Yes, I am."

"Ehh... I wonder if Echizen is ever going to become a professional too."

Atobe glanced over, the look on his face nonchalant. "He's a strong player."

"That's why... Ah, Atobe-senpai, since you're playing as a pro after all... have you met Tezuka yet?"

There was a hesitant pause. "I met him back in junior high. He's an incredible player."

"Of course! That match between the two of you was legendary!"

Atobe couldn't help smiling at the antics of his kouhai. "Well-"

The other boy continued as if he didn't hear Atobe speak. "But I wasn't referring to that match. I'm talking about now... whether you have met him on courts as a professional player. I heard that he's back in the country, but I'm not sure if he's a pro now as well or not..."

The appraisal Atobe gave his junior almost made the younger boy shrink. "No."

And that was the end of their conversation.

Apparently, his kouhai was right. Tezuka was back in the country. He had left for further studies, and just returned from Germany during a school break. A strange location for further studies, in Atobe's opinion. Furthermore, hadn't the location where he went to treat his shoulder back then in junior high been Germany?

Regardless, it wasn't his business.

And he certainly wasn't going to make it his business either.

There was nothing... between them anymore.

  
-----

  
He dreamt of the other that night.

Just like in the past... just like back then when everyone seemed a lot happier than they were now. It made him wonder if he was the only one who had been changing or if the same thing had been happening to everyone. But how could everyone else possibly have such problems?

It wasn't really a problem even, to say the truth.

Just something unforgotten, something lost, something from a past he was unwilling to indulge in.

He knew that there were a lot of things he could have done back then. A lot more. And also a lot of things which he could have stopped himself from doing. He could have stopped himself from suggesting the break-up. He could have stopped himself from letting the relationship develop to the point where such an emotional separation hurt enough to kill.

His pride refused to let him acknowledge the other's decisions.

He wanted to forget.

He was hurt, and like all hurt animals, he simply wanted to curl in on himself and let the world wash over him like an endless tide. But he couldn't. His pride demanded that he stand up again. His vanity made him take care of himself. His ego made him prove to the others that nothing could take him down. Nothing short of death.

He was strong.

Now, he wished he was stronger.

Would the other mind if he called? Would the other want to see him? Listen to him, even if it was just for a moment? He wasn't asking for too much time. He just wanted to say something.

He wanted to apologise.

He was wrong. He was sorry. He should have never pushed back then. Yes, that was his fault.

As for everything else, he would lay no claims to being the cause of those problems.

Calling the other was easy. The number was still familiar to his fingertips. They remembered, even when he had forgotten. Two rings, three rings, before the other picked up, sounding just like his old self. He wondered if the other still remembered him. It had been years since they spoke to each other after all.

"Hisashiburi..."

"Nn."

"I'm sorry."

"What are you apologising for?"

"Everything."

And he chose to end the conversation there.

Maybe... he wasn't as strong as he always thought he was.

But he was strong enough.

Strong enough to survive, and that was more important than anything else.

More important than something weak and fallible like love.

  
-----

  
He was out for his usual jog around parts of the city he liked when he came across Ryoma, who was leaving the street courts with his boyfriend. The both of them nodded at each other in acknowledgement before Atobe continued his way, but Fuji had called his name at the last instance, stalling him.

"Atobe..."

The former team captain of Hyotei stopped, then turned to gaze at the tensai player who eventually chose to follow the career path of a professional tennis player as desired by his boyfriend. "Yes?"

Fuji smiled, brightly and almost innocently. "Good luck."

The look Atobe returned him was puzzled, but Fuji only smiled wider and waved goodbye from where he stood. Ryoma had lowered his cap with a slightly guilty look and turned away from Atobe's view, his face and body partially hidden by his boyfriend's.

Unable to understand Fuji's statement, or Ryoma's strange reaction, Atobe continued jogging, thinking about the schedule that was planned for him this week, by his manager. His former coach at Hyotei had offered to be his temporary manager until he found someone suitable to stand in. There were several offers from various people he knew.

Even Oshitari had offered, and he politely declined the other. Nobody knew his former team members better than he did and if he was given a chance, there was no way he would ever let any of them be his manager. All of them were manipulative bastards, to a certain extent. They had to be one if they wanted to stay on the team.

As Atobe jogged along a familiar path leading to one of the more secluded street courts located far behind the others, he began to unconsciously head for the one he was most familiar with. After all, he had spent years playing at that court, against Ryoma and Tezuka...

Thinking back now, it felt like those were times so long past, they felt like decades instead of years. All of them had aged, mentally, physically and emotionally. He was no longer the Atobe Keigo he used to be. And he wasn't glad about that. Although he was growing stronger all the time, he knew that a part of himself would never be as strong as he was back then.

That was all his own fault. He had no-one but himself for blame for that.

His selfish nature. His persistent nature. His jealous nature. His possessive nature. His vain nature.

And the part of him which loved another.

Atobe came to a stop when he heard familiar sounds of someone serving tennis balls repeatedly. Unsure, and yet, curious enough to want to know who that person was, he rounded the corner leading to the furthest court and paused. And stared.

He wasn't sure of how long he stood there watching the other, his eyes drinking in the other's slender form and powerful strokes. His eyes observing and remembering those hands, those eyes, those lips. Everything.

The other paused, then glanced over, the sunlight reflecting off his glasses for just the briefest of instances.

"Ah, Atobe..."

He could only stare at the other.

Tezuka Kunimitsu. In flesh. Right before his eyes.

Ignoring the fact that Atobe was staring at him, Tezuka left his racket lying on the floor and started walking towards the other, where they separated from each other by a mere fence. Tezuka paused before the fence.

"I've been waiting for you."

Atobe found that his throat had strangely dried up. Tezuka's stare was slowly unravelling him from inside.

"Let's have a one-set match. I brought extra rackets."

Déjà vu.

He was at crossroads now. To step forward, or step back. To grasp this chance he would never have again in his hands and cherish it, or destroy it without a second glance. He was faced with the same situation years back and he always felt that he had made the right choice back then. But now...

Atobe, the professional player, told him to go. There was no point staying here at an old court playing against a boy who could never make his way to the Grand Slam. He had better things to do with his precious time.

Atobe, the former captain of Hyotei, told him to stay. There was too much to lose if he simply walked away.

While one part of him warred against another, he thought briefly about the kind of life he wanted, and the type of days he wanted to pass while he was still young enough to have no regrets about the things he did.

The captain won.

He believed in something called captains' pride. That was the very reason why he first neared Tezuka to begin with. He saw no reason why things should change now, even when the both of them were no longer captains. Everyone remembered the match they had. Nobody could possibly forget it. It wasn't just a contest of wills and determination back then. It was also a contest of their pride as captains. And Atobe was glad to say that, although he had won the game, Tezuka had won the hearts of everyone present.

That was the true grace and pride of a captain.

He believed in it.

Smiling for the first time since he stumbled upon the court that day, Atobe took a step forward.

"Of course."

The smile Tezuka returned was priceless.

  
end

Date Completed: 230703  
Date Revised: 230703


End file.
